Chapter 46 Book #2
His teeth scraped lightly, then soothed with his tongue, marking me in slow, deliberate strokes while his hands roamed—palming my breasts through the thin wet fabric of my bikini top, thumbs circling my nipples until they ached and peaked under his touch.
“Alexander—”
His name came out half plea, half demand.
He answered by walking us backward until my spine met the smooth teak of the deck railing.
Then he was kissing down my chest, water still dripping from his hair onto my skin as his mouth closed over one breast through the fabric.
He sucked—hard—tongue flicking the stiff peak, and pleasure arrowed straight between my legs.
I cried out, fingers twisting in his hair, hips jerking against the solid press of him.
He switched to the other side, giving it the same ruthless attention while one hand slipped between us, fingers deftly tugging the tie at my hip.
The bikini bottom fell away, useless scrap of fabric landing somewhere behind him.
Cool air kissed newly bare skin and then his hand was there—cupping me, middle finger sliding through slick folds, finding my clit and circling with slow, maddening pressure.
My hips bucked. “Please—”
He lifted his head, eyes dark and glittering. “Please what?”
I couldn’t form the words. Instead I yanked his mouth back to mine, kissing him wildly while grinding against his hand. He groaned into my mouth, added a second finger, curled them inside me until I was clenching around him, thighs trembling.
Then he was moving again—lifting me easily, carrying me through the open glass doors into the shadowed interior of the master suite.
The door slid shut behind us with a soft click.
He didn’t bother with lights. Moonlight spilled across white sheets as he lowered me onto the wide bed, following me down without ever breaking contact.
His mouth was everywhere.
Throat. Collarbone. The valley between my breasts. Stomach—tongue dipping into my navel while his hands shoved my top up and off. He sucked a bruise into the soft skin just under my ribs, then lower, kissing the sensitive crease where thigh met hip. My legs fell open on their own.
Moonlight carved sharp shadows across his shoulders as he hooked his hands under my knees, spreading me wide—slow, deliberate, no room for shyness. Cool air kissed slick, swollen flesh for one heartbeat before his mouth descended.
The first touch was devastating: the flat heat of his tongue dragging from my entrance all the way up to my clit in one long, unhurried stroke. My hips jerked off the sheets. A raw, involuntary sound ripped from my throat—half moan, half sob.
He didn’t rush.
He savored.
His tongue circled my clit with lazy, slippery precision—slow clockwise swirls that made the little bundle of nerves throb harder with every pass.
Then he flattened it again, pressing firm, broad licks that covered every inch of me, lapping up the fresh rush of wetness like he was dying of thirst.
The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth working me filled the room—slick, rhythmic, filthy.
My fingers twisted in his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt.
He groaned against me; the vibration shot straight through my core.
My thighs trembled around his head, muscles jumping every time his tongue flicked the sensitive underside of my clit—quick, sharp little lashes that made my vision spark white.
He sucked the swollen bud between his lips—gentle at first, then harder—pulling with slow, pulsing suction while the tip of his tongue fluttered against the trapped peak. Pleasure coiled so tight it hurt; my back bowed off the mattress, heels digging into his shoulders.
“Alexander—fuck—right there—”
He answered by sliding two fingers inside me—thick, curling upward on the first thrust, finding that rough patch and stroking it in time with his mouth.
The dual sensation was brutal: his fingers pumping slow and deep, knuckles brushing my entrance on every withdrawal, while his tongue never stopped tormenting my clit—flicking, circling, sucking, licking in relentless, perfect rhythm.
My hips rocked against his face on their own—grinding, chasing, shameless. He let me ride him for a few frantic seconds before his free hand clamped down on my hip, pinning me in place so he could devour me exactly how he wanted.
He ate me like it was the only thing that mattered.
Tongue dipping inside me now—thrusting shallow, tasting deep—then dragging back up to lash my clit again.
His stubble scraped the tender skin of my inner thighs; the rough contrast against all that slick heat made me whimper.
Sweat beaded along my spine, between my breasts, trickling down my sides as my body wound tighter and tighter.
He added a third finger—stretching me open, curling harder, stroking faster—while his lips sealed around my clit and sucked with pulsing, rhythmic pulls. The pressure built unbearable—white-hot, electric, ready to snap.
I shattered.
My orgasm hit like a fist—violent, full-body—inner walls clamping down on his fingers in frantic spasms while my clit pulsed against his tongue.
A scream tore out of me, raw and broken; my thighs locked around his ears, hips bucking wildly as wave after blinding wave crashed through me.
He didn’t stop—kept licking slow, soft, coaxing aftershocks that made my legs shake and my breath hitch in little sobs.
Only when I was whimpering, oversensitive and trembling, did he finally lift his head.
His lips were swollen, glistening with me. His eyes—dark, feral, utterly satisfied—locked on mine as he licked his mouth clean with one slow drag of his tongue.
“Goddamn,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “You taste like fucking heaven.”
He crawled up my body, still hard and leaking against my thigh, and kissed me deep—letting me taste myself on his tongue, salty-sweet and obscene.
He rose from between my thighs, lips still glistening, chin wet with me. His eyes were black with hunger, pupils blown wide as he crawled up my body like a predator finally done playing.
I was still shaking—aftershocks rippling through my core, thighs slick and trembling—when he settled between my legs. His cock dragged heavy and hot along my folds, the thick head nudging my oversensitive clit with every slow pass. I hissed at the contact, hips twitching involuntarily.
He was massive.
Thicker than my wrist, veins standing proud along the rigid length, the flushed head already leaking against my entrance. He wrapped one hand around the base, stroking himself once—slow, deliberate—spreading my wetness over himself until he shone.
“Look at you,” he rasped, voice gravel-rough. “Still dripping for me.”
He notched himself at my opening and pushed in—slow at first, letting me feel every brutal inch as he stretched me open.
My breath caught; my nails dug into his biceps.
The burn was exquisite—too full, too much, perfect.
He didn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt, hips flush against mine, the coarse hair at his base grinding against my swollen clit.
I moaned—long, broken—head falling back into the pillows.
He gave me one heartbeat to adjust.
Then he fucked me.
Hard.
The first thrust snapped my spine off the mattress—deep, punishing, the head of his cock slamming against that spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyelids.
I cried out, loud and raw. He didn’t ease up.
He set a brutal rhythm—pulling almost all the way out, then driving back in with enough force to make the headboard slam against the wall.
Again.
And again.
The wet slap of our bodies filled the room—obscene, rhythmic, relentless.
His balls slapped against me with every thrust, heavy and tight.
Sweat poured down his chest, dripping onto my breasts as he pounded into me.
My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him deeper, harder.
“Alexander—” My voice cracked on his name.
“Louder,” he growled, teeth grazing my throat. “Scream it.”
He hooked one of my knees over his elbow, spreading me wider, changing the angle so every brutal stroke dragged his cock directly over that swollen ridge inside me.
Pleasure knifed through me—sharp, almost painful.
I screamed his name—raw, desperate—“Alexander!”
—and he groaned like the sound was gasoline on his fire.
He fucked me harder.
Faster.
The bed creaked under us, sheets twisting beneath my back. His hand slid between us, thumb finding my clit—rubbing fast, merciless circles while he drove into me with punishing force. My body locked up—inner walls fluttering, then clamping down hard around his thick length.
“Come on my cock,” he ordered, voice shredded. “Let me feel it.”
I shattered again—violent, blinding—screaming his name over and over as my orgasm ripped through me. My nails raked bloody trails down his back; my thighs shook uncontrollably. He didn’t stop—kept fucking me through it, drawing the climax out until I was sobbing, oversensitive, pleading.
He flipped me onto my stomach without pulling out.
One hand fisted my hair, tugging my head back so he could see my face while the other gripped my hip, yanking me back onto his cock.
The new angle was devastating—he hit deeper, harder, the thick head battering that spot with every thrust.
I clawed at the sheets, moaning into the pillow, voice muffled but still loud enough to echo.
He fucked me like he was trying to ruin me for anyone else.
Again.
And again.
Sweat slicked our skin; the room smelled of sex and salt and us. My third orgasm built fast—too fast—coiling low and tight until it snapped. I came screaming his name one more time—“Alexander—fuck—Alexander!”—clenching so hard around him he cursed, hips stuttering.
He followed on the next thrust—burying himself deep, cock pulsing, flooding me with hot, thick spurts that seemed to go on forever. His groan was low, animal, vibrating through my back as he emptied inside me.
We collapsed together—his weight pinning me to the mattress, still buried to the hilt, both of us panting like we’d run a marathon.
He pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the nape of my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin.